


Language of Flowers

by Kyonomiko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyonomiko/pseuds/Kyonomiko
Summary: A collection of drabbles originally written for the Dramione LDWS Competition
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 181
Kudos: 201





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warm-up Round: Roses  
> Title: Say it Loud

Hermione stomps through the ministry, grumbling and all together put out. She hardly notices when Malfoy sidles up beside her and falls into step.

"Where to in such a hurry, Granger?"

"Well, not my office since it's retching up flowers at the moment."

Draco slows his step, faltering, then keeps pace one more. "That doesn't sound so terrible," he tries. "Who doesn't like flowers?"

She scoffs, but doesn't stop. "Flowers are fine enough, but the room is floor to ceiling roses, and they won't be charmed or magically removed. Some sort of counterspell or ward on them. I'm going to kill him."

"I.. wait. Kill whom? I'm afraid I'm having trouble following."

"McLaggen," she hisses out. "I know it was him. I've been turning down his advances for months. Just like him to do something this trite. Red roses?" She scoffs again, eyes rolling. "Didn't even have the imagination for a less cliche show of interest."

"Right," her colleague answers. "Of course. Absolutely worst sort of declaration."

"The living worst."

"If you'll excuse me, Granger," he says and doesn't wait for her reply before speeding toward the lifts.

By Draco's calculations, Granger has probably made it to magical maintenance by the time he reaches her office. He closes the door and begins muttering the spells to breakdown his own wards and protections. He had placed them only to ensure the flowers stayed fresh, vibrant, and healthy for as long as possible. He never imagined she would guess so poorly as to the source of the virtual garden he left for her.

Trite? He might be offended if he were not in such a panic to fix this.

Once the roses are all gone, Draco transfigures one last red rose into a small cluster of forget-me-nots and pens a short note to leave beside it.

When Hermione returns a few minutes later, her office is empty of both flowers and wizards, and she apologizes to maintenance for wasting their time. "Perhaps they were only an illusionary spell?" she offers with a small and uncomfortable laugh. They leave, and she closes the door by leaning against it, slightly weary by the frantic start to her morning.

As she approaches her desk, tossing her robes over her chair and settling in to start her day, she notices the unobtrusive blue blossoms and a square parchment in the center of her cluttered desk.

Cautiously, she lifts the note and reads, her life clicking into place.

"Too much, then? I thought I had to be loud for you to hear me. Perhaps a quieter approach…

I'll be in conference room C for an hour. Your presence or lack thereof can be your answer

DM"

Hermione Granger, who attends some of the worst meetings of her career in that particular room, has never run there so fast.


	2. The Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round 1: Lavender

Lavender is the first ingredient, so he imagines it is the most vital. He plucks it from his mother's gardens in the night and spirits it away to his rooms, hiding. Always hiding. From the Dark Lord. From his family. From everyone except for _her_.

Draco hardly recognizes himself, avoiding the gilded mirrors in the manor as he makes his way through the dim corridors.

When Granger sees him, she no longer flinches away, believing him to be _good_. Maybe he is, in his own right. He gives her peace, even as he takes comfort from her. It's an exchange really; a bargain. He hopes she would agree, if he only had the strength to tell her.

Reaching through the bars, he presents her cup. She's thin and dirty, but Draco doesn't mind. She's always been beautiful, and the filth can't take that from her. She nods her thanks and takes a sip. "You always make it perfect," she tells him, and he grins at her with affection.

"I wish I could do more," he says, glancing at the bars of her cage, but she shakes her head as she always does and tells him this is enough. It's something at least, in a world when she thought she had nothing.

Potter will come for her, he promises, though he himself has stopped believing it. Her smile is sad, like she knows it's a lie, and she drinks more.

The draught works quickly. She finishes the cup and lies down on her threadbare bedding, relishing in the rest that his potion brings.

He waits, letting the anticipation build, eyes roving her partially bare legs.

When he knows she is out, deep in her magic induced sleep, Draco unlocks the door, looking first left and right to be sure he is alone. If they catch him they might take her away; hurt her. As it stands, they've nearly forgotten her, so Draco has taken her on as his ward, feeding and clothing as best he can.

Cautious, he approaches, caressing her arm, tracing her collarbone, more pronounced than he would like, knowing her meals are not enough. He will give her more, if he can manage it. He would give her a place at his side if he could.

Taking care not to wake her, he settles close on the small bed and sighs into the back of her neck, nose buried in her curls. He smells the lingering lavender from her cup and the sweat on her skin. She can't know that he takes these liberties, pressing into the curves of her and pretending that she is his.

He whispers to her softly, that she is kind and sweet and he loves her; begging forgiveness and expecting none. He lays gentle kisses on her shoulders and pretends they are lying on silk sheets in his opulent room.

Draco sneaks away after a time, letting her rest, and never notices her eyes are open every time as he leaves.


	3. Unspoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 2 - Gardenia  
> 3rd Place

The scent is always first. Something offensive drowned in sweetness, cloying and choking. She never speaks until he does first.

"I know you're there."

"Hello, Draco."

The wizard looks up to find a ghostly apparition floating just beyond his desk. Hogwarts is quiet this time of year, summer heat suffused into the very stones of the walls. He spends most days alone. Except, of course, for the ghost of Hermione Granger.

"Hello, Granger." He lays the quill down beside his parchments, lesson plans for next year that have no reason to be rushed. "Care for a game?"

She grins and if the face of a dead woman can light, it does. "If you're ready to lose," she postures in turn, and Draco smiles, indulgent.

Hermione is rubbish at chess.

She loses, of course. Five games in a row. In the quiet following their last match, Draco sips tea and his opponent pouts, transparent arms folded over her chest. He's struck, as he often is, by how young she is. Even as Draco approaches his 30th birthday, she is forever nineteen. Forever beautiful, though a stain of dark color mars her jumper and an angry gash appears to eternally bleed on her arm.

"Why do you stay?" he asks. He never has before, though the curiosity has been there. She looks at him in question.

"Oh, I apologize. Did you need to get back to work?"

Draco shakes his head. "No, I mean… Why haven't you moved on? Across the veil?"

She blinks at him, face earnest and serene. "I stay for you."

"For me?" He blinks right back, confusion settling into the furrow between his eyes. "Why on earth would you stay for me? Don't misunderstand," he adds quickly. "I quite enjoy it when you visit." (It wouldn't do to have an angry spirit haunt him after all.) "But it's not as though I gave you any reason to care for me when you were alive."

"And yet, here I remain," she says, shrugging her thin shoulders.

She leaves soon after, offering no more insight, and Draco falls back into his routine until she returns. She always returns eventually, and the years pass.

They pass until he has aged through his career and sits as head of Slytherin house. They pass as he realizes his days to sire an heir are behind him. They pass, and she is constant, playing chess and smiling at him, forever bleeding from her tattered arm. Forever beautiful, floating inches off the ground.

When his years end, when Draco thinks to rise in the morning only to look down and see his aged body left behind, she's standing there, the ever-present scent of Gardenia surrounding her, and she offers him her hand.

"I was here for you," she reminds him, and he finally understands: Affection unspoken that he has come to share.

Sliding his hand into hers, she has form and warmth once again, and he follows her across the veil.


	4. Size Doesn't Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 3 - Peony  
> 3rd Place

"Come on, Granger, it can't be that bad."

Draco chuckles as he digs around in the blooms and leaves of Greenhouse number five. He hadn't meant to hex her. He's been trying to score points with the pretty witch for ages.

Unfortunately, he had been startled, thinking he was alone in the building. Acting on instinct, he had shot a vague polymorph spell her way. Whatever she'd been transfigured to had darted into a Peony bush and now refuses to come out.

"You witnessed my horrifying adventure as a ferret, if you recall. This can't be worse than that."

He spies a glimmer of movement, one heavy pink blossom dipping on its stem, and reaches toward it.

There, curled and crouched, is a pixie.

A very naked pixie with the face of Hermione Granger, blushing more pink than the flower itself.

And Draco laughs through a very amused smile. "Oh, dear me, but you seem to be in quite a state."

The tiny witch huffs, holding a petal to her front and glaring up at him, unable to process human speech but definitely letting her ire be known.

"Come out, and I'll dispel it." When she doesn't move, he sighs and explains, "If I do it here, you'll crush Longbottom's stupid flowers and probably wind up in the Infirmary."

Draco watches as she gingerly stands straight, bringing the flower petal with her and continuing to try to murder him with a look. Her wings flutter, and she hovers down to the pavers, modesty petal in place.

"You know, if I was so concerned about seeing under your knickers, I probably could have found a way when you were more than three inches tall." Which, of course, is a _lie_. He obviously hadn't managed it yet.

He flicks his wand and watches her grow back to normal height.

Unfortunately, he seems to have miscalculated, perhaps a bit too much arc on his swish, a stutter to his flick, and she is still quite naked, a flower petal basically large enough to hide her belly button clutched between her fingertips.

"Err.."

Skin still pink as the peonies, Granger squeaks at him and scrambles to crouch behind the bush. "Well, don't just stand there! Give me your robes!"

He does, though he could probably move faster. He's trying not to look, he really is, but Hermione fucking Granger is flushed and naked and Merlin's pants, she's fit.

He hands over the garment, eyes still wide as she snaps it away from him and wraps herself.

"I… sorry…"

"So you say," she sniffs as she turns to go. Draco panics in the face of her angry departure.

"Wait! That is… I'll need my robes back."

The witch stops and looks him over with scrutiny. He's trying very hard not to look like a starving man in a pastry shop, but imagines he must be failing when she tilts her head and smirks.

"Come get them."

He heels like a pup, following her lead.


	5. Mixed Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 4 - Daffodil  
> 1st Place

"You're fucking hopeless, Granger."

She groans but can't really protest. "Obviously," Hermione grits out. "Which is the reason I asked you to help. Why I thought you would be anything but your usual awful self is beyond me."

Harry enters on cue and flops down next to Theo. "Because I told him to be nice." He smacks his lover on the shoulder and gestures to Hermione. "Be nice, you prick. Do you know how rarely she even admits she _needs_ help? But I can't do much for her with this antiquated pureblood nonsense."

Theo looks back to the witch in question, and she raises a brow waiting. "Well?"

Dramatically, with all the theater he can muster, Theo Nott sighs and levels her with a look. "Did you send flowers as discussed?"

"I did! And he's been awful this week. I thought we were getting somewhere, but he's completely shut down."

"Roses? Iris? A little Chrysanthemum for passion…?" He wriggles his eyebrows at her, and she rolls her eyes in response.

"I didn't imagine he would appreciate dramatics. Besides, large bouquets are not typically something a wizard wants to receive, so I kept it simple. Just the daffodil, for respect and unrequited love. Chivalry for the way he has treated me since we were partnered."

" _Just_ the daffodil? As in a single solitary daffodil?"

"Well, yes of course. What was he going to do with a huge bunch of them? Display them on his Ministry desk? I can't see that being something that- _what_ is so funny?!"

Theo is laughing and covering his face in his hands. "Oh, Merlin, Granger, you really don't know much about all this do you?"

With a huff, she falls back against the sofa and pouts, "Apparently not. That is, _again_ , why I came to you."

Another smack to the shoulder from Harry and Theo rights himself. "Sorry, sorry. The things is, you brilliant, stupid witch, is that daffodils in general stand for all those wonderful things, but a single daffodil means misfortune. If you left him a single blossom with your name attached, he is under the impression you wish bad things to befall him. Which, incidentally, is probably why he's been in such a mopey, moody state all week."

"I… misfortune? Well, fuck me."

"No thanks," Theo quips and squeezes Harry's knee. "He's got me all to himself."

With a rather evil glare, Hermione rises and offers a prefunctury 'thanks' to her friends. Apparently, she's gone about this all wrong.

Stopping at a florist on her way, she barrels into Draco's office and throws a bundle of various red flowers on his desk, his eyes blowing wide at her entry. "There! That _clear_ enough for you?"

Both hands on his cheeks, she kisses him hard, then pulls back to study his face.

His mouth curls into a grin, and he murmurs just before his lips meet hers again, "The flowers were hardly necessary, but I'll take more of this."


	6. The Killing Fields

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 5 - Gladiolus  
> 2nd Place

Draco Malfoy could tell you the moment Tom Riddle was fated to die. It was the moment the monster dared touch Hermione Granger.

She had been laid out on the Malfoys' cold floor, wounds from his aunt's blade still weeping, and Riddle had crucio'd her in anger, punishing the witch for Potter's escape. Draco had stood by, face shrouded with feigned indifference, while inside he boiled and raged. How dare he touch her. _Hurt_ her.

Draco had exchanged a look with his mother, and she had nodded. It was time for this to end, and the Malfoys would, as always, take back the power they are due.

After that, Draco had watched Hermione suffer and starve in his family home, barely able to sneak bread and water, sharing only a meaningful glance as his fingers grazed hers through the bars. Their time would come, he knew. Only a little longer.

Three torturous days pass, Draco railing at his mother in their private rooms as Lucius looks on, haggard and hollow, eyes hardly seeing. But when the Dark Lord takes a meeting with Karkaroff, Draco makes his move.

Luring the snake is easy enough. She is a violent and vain thing, like an ancient dragon of legend. They lead her with rats, filling her with meat and blood, until they reach the part of the estate not written of in any records. The path through the gardens shown on no maps, the purpose only passed down through the patriarchs of the line. Here, the snake meets her end, and Draco watches the blood seep into the dirt, the last, lucky rat scurrying away.

By morning, Riddle is beside himself. "Where is Nagini," he hisses at his followers. Humbly, Narcissa answers.

"My Lord, she hunts often in my gardens. Shall I look for her?"

"I will go myself," he bites back. "Show me!"

And so, mother and son lead, arm in arm as if making a turn about a garden party. The Dark Lord stalks just behind, growling for haste; begging for Nagini to make herself known.

"Here, My Lord. She finds rats in the gladiolus. Perhaps she is there?"

He tears into the tall stalks, breaking stems and sweeping his cloak through the foliage. Draco watches, stoic, his mother standing equally strong.

"I do not see her," the wizard says, spinning in place and looking toward the ground.

"Perhaps if you look beneath the blooms," Draco offers. "It's so dense to see through…"

And so he does, the desperate Lord, until his head and shoulders slip beneath the swaying stems. His cry comes next, howling his snake's name, deteriorating quickly into a strangled, gurgling sound.

They stand, waiting, until the earth absorbs the man that had threatened the Malfoy home. Runes rend flesh and spirit, all hidden by vibrant flowers, shaped as swords and born of spilled blood.

Draco spits in the dirt before turning to run back to the house, to his witch he has kept waiting too long.


	7. Status Quo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round 6 - Statice  
> 2nd Place

Draco absolutely can't fucking believe it. She _agreed_. Hermione Granger agreed to dinner: a private date.

After years of working together, he made his move and feels endlessly fortunate she would give him this chance. Granger is the kindest, most brilliant witch he knows.

Not to mention, she has killer legs and a head full of fuck-me hair he can't wait to thread his fingers through.

He's near her office when he hears the object of his most ardent and inappropriate affection chatting with her friend, the agitatingly earnest Harry Potter.

"I just don't see the appeal. Money, I suppose," the wizard offers with a nasty little chuckle.

She scoffs to Draco's relief. "Please. I do just fine on my own. He is handsome though, and terribly witty." In the corridor, Draco preens at her assessment.

"And, of course," she adds, "I have a weakness for status."

With a bit of a double-take, Draco backs away quietly.

_That_ , Draco didn't expect. If there was anyone he thought immune to the pull of his name, it was Granger. It's disappointing, to be sure, but perhaps should have been expected. She's on the fast track to Minister, and the name 'Malfoy', regardless of wartime tarnish, still carries weight.

He tells himself it doesn't matter, that his prestige is simply a way to get what he wants, just as it's always been.

And what he wants, is her.

At the restaurant, however, some exclusive place that his name can access, Draco grows more bitter by the hour. His surly demeanor has managed to snuff out her usually sunny disposition.

Granger's hand lays across the cheque the moment their server delivers it. "I can cover my half," she says, stiff and cold. "I apologize for however I've soured our evening, but let's not add financial debt to the mix."

"Nonsense," he says, plucking the parchment away. "What do I have to offer if not my background, right?"

He feels her eyes on him as he marks his Gringotts credentials.

"I thought you had a lot to offer," she says softly. "Draco, I…Those flowers you sent, with all of my favorites…"

He looks at her but stills his tongue, waiting.

"You likely didn't realize, but you sent status." At his very confused look, she repeats, "Status. Sea lavender? Tiny purple blossoms? That's my mother's favorite. I've not seen her since before the war, and it just felt like a sign."

Status. _Statice_.

Oh, fucking fuck, Draco is an complete idiot. He backpedals like dementors are on his heels.

"Granger, I apologize. I had a difficult day, and I've been dreadful company. Please allow me a nightcap to make it up to you?"

She hesitates, and he can't quite get a breath. All of this over such a silly misunderstanding. When finally she agrees, his heart starts to beat again.

Later, In a tiny bistro, two glasses of champagne going warm between them, Draco kisses her and buries his fingers in that luxurious hair.


	8. Creature Trials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at the round that sent me home! I have one more chapter to post after this. My first inspiration for protea was a bit different and I lost my nerve. I hope you enjoy them both 🤷♀️ Thank you for following my little collection 🥰

"What is it?" she asks, eyeing the small creature in the DMLE holding cells.

A snicker comes from behind her (Theo) followed by a sigh (Harry). "It's Malfoy," her friend says, and she looks the thing up and down.

"How on earth did he end up like this?"

Harry steps forward and flicks his wand at the lock of the door. "Transformation experiments in the DoM. Trying to 'unlock the mysteries of creature transformation' or some such."

Hermione nods, but keeps her eyes trained on her partner. "And he's in lock up because..."

"Tosser tried to scratch an Unspeakable's eyes out," Theo says helpfully, a bit too much delight in his voice.

Hermione grimaces and addresses Draco. "And just what were you doing in Mysteries by yourself on a Tuesday?"

"Oh, I can answer that," Harry says as he swings open the door. "Kingsley wants more oversight on the one department who has none. He asked me to go, but Malfoy insisted he take this one. He was supposed to be observing their creature trials."

"Wrong place, wrong time then," She muses and reaches down to scoop up the thing that appears to be an albino niffler with a wand in its teeth. "Are they going to reverse it?"

Harry waves his hand around, showing just how concerned he is. "It's supposed to wear off in, I don't know, an hour? A day? I don't really remember." There is a gleam in his eye and, if she wasn't sure before, Hermione knows Harry is enjoying this desperately.

She cradles the wizard turned niffler as she makes her way to the floo system, telling him along the way that perhaps if he had let Harry take the case this would not have happened. Their rivalry, she would like him to know, is bound to cause more trouble in the future, and why can't he just get along? Is this about Theo? Hermione thinks that perhaps Draco is jealous that his closest friend is spending more time with someone else these days, and maybe he's a bit jealous...

She talks all the way through their journey until they are in his posh apartment just on the outskirts of Muggle London. She's only been once, for the house warming party planned by Theo, attended by Harry, and demanded that she also be a part of to save Harry from the 'den of snakes' or whatever dramatics he had mentioned.

"Can I... get you anything? A drink? I can put water in a dish..." The niffler levels her with a look and she thinks she knows her partner well enough at this point to read it. "No, I'm not pouring Firewhiskey in it, either."

She looks around, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Transformed though he might be, she's still alone with Draco Malfoy in his flat. Certainly not a position she ever expected to land in, regardless that she might have imagined it once or twice. Those late nights in the office, his hair mussed, looking at her with his intense gray eyes through the fringe.

She shakes herself out of that little self-torture and takes a seat on the sofa. "I hope you don't mind. I think I should stay though, in case you need anything. I can sleep on the sofa if that's alright?"

To her surprise, the niffler pops up beside her and settles against her thigh. "A-alright then," she manages. When it snuggles closer, she can't help but lay a hand on it's white fur, smiling when it seems to deflate with a contented sigh.

She must fall asleep because Hermione's next conscious moment includes an irate Draco storming into his apartment. "Get off my sofa you disgusting ball of fuzz."

Well… that's a fairly shite response since she was only trying to help, but her mouth snaps shut on any retort when she sees a white niffler running for its life. "And give me back my wand, you little monster!"

He stops in his tracks, seeming to notice her for the first time. "Sorry, Granger, I'll be just a tick. Fancy a drink? My treat."

She nods, eyes wide, and watches the chase resume with a slow smile crawling across her lips.


	9. Protea - Bonus chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This is the last installment of this collection. This was my first attempt at the Protea round and I got cold feet on going horror, deciding to instead give it another try and fall back on humor. But it's written so I might as well share, right? :)

"Holy fuck, Granger, what have you done?" Draco is staring at the place where the dead were once interred. Hallowed ground now corrupted, the dead transformed from corpses to inferi are reaching clawed hands through the dirt, shifting soil and decay to reach open air.

"I… It was a cleansing spell."

"Did you _cleanse_ the fucking protection wards?!" He's backing away, shifts when a hand reaches for his boot. The bodies are digging themselves out, grey skin hanging, sloughing off the bone.

Draco breaks first, yelling, "Run!" and takes off through the forest. Hermione now understands why it is forbidden.

She thought to heal the land of Riddle's corruption, to put to rest the dozens of souls felled at the battle months before. But it seems this land was already corrupt.

She isn't sure why Draco followed her tonight, but is grateful for it.

"Faster, Granger; move it!"

She chases after him and is startled when he reaches blindly to take her hand, dragging her along.

"We have to...get back…," he pants out. "Wards will… slow... them down."

Hermione feels her side burn and calves ache. Behind them, lumbering forms crash through underbrush, gutteral noises swallowed in the thud of footsteps and smacks of flesh against trees.

The moonlit Hogwarts grounds have never looked more welcome. When they cross the treeline, they do not slow, racing toward the castle, until, at the entrance, they finally look back.

A breeze rustles short grass, leaves swaying gently. It's silent, and no horrors have followed.

Draco braces his hands on his knees, panting, and Hermione can't seem to form words.

Eventually, their breathing slows, and they both stare toward the forest. "I can't leave them like that," she says softly, knowing she wasn't imagining one of the corpses with bright pink hair.

She looks over at Draco to find him scowling. "I'm not one of your Gryffindor sycophants, Granger."

"And I didn't ask you to come with me."

They stare at each other for a long time, before he throws up his arms. "Fine! Dammit to fuck, _fine_ … Let's get Theo, though. He knows a lot about inferi." Draco's through the doors before she can react.

"And Longbottom, loathe as I am to admit. Give him a sword, he can probably save us all. But do _not_ tell, Potter," he adds. "Last thing I need is Aurors involved while I'm on probation." He keeps walking, continuing to comment on those allowed to join them and those (Harry) that are not.

He looks back. "Well? Come on."

Her eyes track him and her feet start to move. At the staircase, he waits for her. When she approaches, he runs his thumb gently along a scratch on her cheek. "You'll have to be more careful when we go back."

"Right… I will," she agrees softly, drawn in by sincere concern of his gaze.

This time, when he threads his fingers through hers, there is less urgency, but she clings back just the same.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! And don't forget, DramioneLDWS here on AO3 has started the next comp, constellations! Come take a look if you are interested. Draco and Leo are already live and the next collection goes up Thursday!
> 
> Thank you for reading and all your lovely comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was my first experience with a comp and I enjoyed the experience! Archive warning of character death only relates to one chapter


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